


Wax Wings Stained Red

by Drake



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, and stuff, pre-game, some guard OCs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drake/pseuds/Drake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Corvo Attano’s ascension to the title of Lord Protector, and the times he saved the Empress’ life after that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Smaragdina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smaragdina/gifts).



> This is for Smaragdina, because her fics are what got me into falling harder for Dishonored than I already had, and inspiring me to write my own (less spectacular) fanfics about Corvo.

Corvo hadn’t been a Protector long when they stopped training him and put him on rotation. Working the waterlock, screening visitors to the Empress, patrolling Dunwall Tower, and sparring with the other Protectors.  
Two months after that, he was given his first detail with the Empress and her daughter, the Lady Emily. They needed extra Protectors, as it was a chance to relax out in the spring sun, and Corvo was assigned to the job. Not because he was all they had, but because he needed the experience, and his fighting skills were one of the best, below just a few of the officers, and the Lord Protector himself.  
A sunny day out, and the Empress deigned to bring her daughter to the river shore and let her play in the water. Corvo happened to be watching across the water for any signs of movement, watching the cliffs and the world around them, constantly on guard. The Empress herself was reading a book, relaxing for the time being. It was a rare treat, for her to have the time to take from her duties and spend with her daughter.  
The Protectors were a constant, visible presence. As much a warning against assassins as an actual weapon to be used against them. So many men, willing to fight to the death, was often a good enough deterrant.  
Of course, it would turn out that the danger wasn’t an outside threat. One moment, Emily was playing in the shallow water, the next, she’d slipped off the edge of the sandbank and into deeper water with a scream.  
“Lady Emily!” He shouted, and without a thought to the consequences, he dove, splitting the water like a warm knife would butter. A little ruined gunpowder was nothing compared to the heiress’ life. So he swam, down and down and down, until he had his arms around Emily. He held her tight, turned until he thought he was pointed upwards, and kicked, searching for the surface, his lungs burning with a lack of air. He finally managed it, throwing himself through the barrier between water and air, and took a deep, gasping breath, starting the swim back over to the shore. He kept the heiress above water, even if it meant going under himself, and let the other Protectors take her from him as they reached the shore and he heaved for breath. He stayed on all fours at the edge of the bank, wet hair plastered to his face, air returning slowly, in too-small quantities, as they brought Emily back, pushing the river-water out of her lungs.  
He coughed, caught his breath – mostly – and pushed himself back to his feet. What he found was the Empress herself standing before him –having already ascertained Emily’s safety . She scrutinized him, and he met her gaze, before remembering his place and bowing before her. She smiled, though he didn’t see it, and spoke in a gentle, warm tone.  
“Thank you, Protector…?”  
“Attano. Corvo Attano, your Highness,” he answered promptly, rising from his bow.  
“Protector Attano. My daughter owes you her life. You have my gratitude.”  
“Any one of us would have done the same, your Highness.”  
—-  
He stopped being assigned to the waterlock and wall patrols, and instead was consistently put by the side of the Empress or her daughter. The Lord Protector informed him one day that his presence had been requested, his specifically, and he was to be watching over the Empress or Lady Emily, as directed. Corvo took the orders as gracefully as he could manage, with a soft, “Yes, sir,” and a bow.  
He became a permanent presence at the Empress’ side, and Emily often asked to play with him, begging to have him on her duty. He’d overheard it once, standing in the shadows as he protected the two, watched the room with eyes that missed nothing, listened with ears that heard each rustle.  
“Mother, can I have Corvo with my group of Protectors? Pleease?” she asked one night, after dinner.  
“Certainly, my dear Emily,” the Empress replied, her lips quirking up in a smile. “Is there any reason for this?”  
“He plays with me when I ask!” Emily answered quickly, and Corvo’s back straightened. The Empress turned to him, an eyebrow quirked in intrigue.  
“My apologies, your Highness—“ he started, despite being out of turn, and he bowed to make up for it.  
“Corvo. It is fine. It’s good to know that Emily has someone she can play with among you. I trust it does not impede with your duties to protect her?”  
“No, your Highness.”  
“Then there is no issue. You are to guard Emily. Protect her well.”  
“Yes, your Highness.” He returned to his position in the shadows, and breathed a sigh of relief.  
—-  
He’d displeased Emily, she’d made that much clear. It was foggy outside, and she’d wanted to play hide-and-go-seek. Corvo had disagreed on principle – fog was dangerous enough without a young heiress doing her best to hide from him. He’d told her no, a bit more harshly than was befitting of his rank, and had upset her. He’d apologized immediately, but still, she’d told him that she didn’t want him on her group any longer.  
Corvo acquiesced, because the heiress’ word was second only to that of the Empress, and was swiftly put back on patrol duty.  
A few quiet days passed thus, and he did not come in contact with the Empress, or her daughter. Those days lacked the life and brightness he had found. He was surprised to find that he missed them; he hadn’t expected to begin truly caring for them. Not so soon.  
He pondered through this as he strode through the Tower, patrolling the night rounds with the rest of the Protectors. He was just passing the Empress’ room when he heard a muffled sound within. He opened the door carefully, quietly, in time to see the Lord Protector fall to the floor, his throat stained red.  
Corvo flew into action, unsheathing his sword with a quiet ring. The assassin, who had his sights set on the Empress, turned at the sound, and whirled to face him, blood dripping from his blade. Two more figures pulled themselves through the window, and Corvo took a fluid, balanced stance, analyzing the situation in an instant.  
He couldn’t let himself be pushed away from the Empress, separated from her. It only took one of them to kill her, and he had to fight the three of them down. Not challenging, if they were like the other Protectors, but they had managed to catch the Lord Protector himself unawares.  
Which meant he was in for a fight.  
Corvo lunged at the first – the assassin with the bloodied blade – and made a quick swipe for his midsection, driving him back and away from the Empress’ bed. The second assassin struck while his arm was extended, and he dodged back, twisting and countering with another slash at the third assassin. He went down, blood gushing from his leg, as the first two moved to surround him and press him to the side, away from the Empress.  
He wasn’t having any of it, and he pushed back, the clang of his sword on the first assassin’s enough to wake the Empress. She made a noise, but Corvo drowned her out, and pressed forward again, striking quickly and viciously. The slice cut the second assassin open at the stomach, and he fell, dead without realizing it yet.  
The final assassin, the first assassin, the assassin with blood on his blade, stood defiant, coiled anger in the face of his ruin. Corvo stared him down, watched his dark eyes, saw the moment he decided to cut and run, and jumped. He slashed down the man’s back, potentially severing part of the spinal cord, leaving him with a nasty mess. He caught his breath for a moment, surveying the room.  
Corvo made the conclusion the moment after the last body dropped to the floor.  
“Lady Emily.” It was a breath, an instant, a whisper of a word, and it froze the world.  
He leaped, he flew, and he ran, sprinting through the castle in moments where it should take him minutes. He ran until every indrawn breath was an agony, and ran faster still. He barreled past servants and guards alike, and uttered not a word – a waste of breath, already short in supply, that could be better spent elsewhere – running as if hell were after him. Or before him.  
He skidded to a stop outside Emily’s room, threw the door open, and took a heartbeat to realize that the assassin had just climbed through the window and killed the Protector in her room. He jumped, soared across the room in a single bound where any man would take three, and flung himself between the man’s blade and the heiress, taking the blow with his sword and his body. He snarled as he fought to push the man off, and Emily yelped in surprise and fear underneath him.  
The assassin hesitated, for just an instant, surprised at the sound, and Corvo pushed, throwing the man off of the bed. He sprang and pinned the assassin ignoring the blood seeping from his chest, dripping on the man beneath him. His blade was pressed to the assassin’s throat, and he growled, “Who sent you?”  
The man was silent, and Corvo – betting that he was attempting his suicide (any assassin would) – slammed him over the head with the flat of his blade.  
“Corvo?” The voice was quiet, meek, sleep-drowsy. Corvo pulled himself to his feet – it was an effort, the blood-loss breaking through the haze of adrenaline that had kept him moving – and turned. He was expecting Emily, staring up at him in wonder, fear, gratitude, any of those things. A mix of those things. They were there. What he wasn’t expecting was the room to be full to the brim of the other Protectors, the Empress rushing in to check on her daughter. The lanterns being lit, the commotion that he’d caused finally catching up.  
He bowed to the bed where Emily sat, still waking up, and the Empress stayed near her, making sure she was alright. Bowed for just a moment, before bending down and picking up the unconscious assassin, slinging him over his shoulder. He sheathed his sword, and strode out of the room, leaving a stunned quiet in his wake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvo works his way up the ranks and into the harts of the Empire’s ruler and ruler-to-be.

The next morning, Corvo stood watch in the Throne Room, where he had volunteered; in the wake of the Lord Protector’s death, each Protector had signed himself up for patrols, until another Lord Protector could be chosen to take the duty again. They mourned, and they grieved, but they did so silently, and without a moment of respite.

His wound had been stitched closed and bandaged by a doctor, and he had ignored the suggestion of resting until he healed. It was too much time, and they had already lost too many for him to be easily replaced.

Corvo watched the Empress arrive, regal in her grace and beauty. He allowed himself only a glance – to ascertain that she was well – before returning to studying the room, scrutinizing the men who had entered with her, identifying the Protectors guarding her and the aristocrats that trailed after her.

She busied herself with their problems – insignificant trifles, though the aristocrats certainly didn’t see it that way – and stayed in their favor. If worst came to worst, she did not need their favor, nor their loyalty – that was what the Protectors were for, what the army was for, what the navy was for – but it was always a useful advantage. So she played them, tricked and beat them in favors that, now won, could not be denied or forgotten.

She was an Empress to be respected, and one to be feared. She was Jessamine, and she was the reason the Protectors were willing to lose their lives. Not for a figurehead, not for a tyrant, but for  _Jessamine_. For the love they had for her, and her daughter. Theirs was a loyalty born not out of duty, but a true desire to protect something – rather, someone – they found worthy of protection.

It was why they couldn’t be bought. For any price.

It was why they never tired at their posts, though they should be exhausted and weary. It was why he stood still for hours, no more than a statue against the wall, yet alert beyond it all, in tune with the rest of the castle, watching the aristocrats – the outsiders who didn’t belong – with punishing scrutiny. He watched until they left, admiring the Empress’ composure in the wake of the previous night’s events. She was unruffled, as if nothing had happened. Word would get out – it must, for the Royal Protector had been killed– and she would deal with it then. No need to let anyone else know before they must.

“Corvo. A word?” she asked, once the room had emptied of all but her guards. She did not even turn to look at him, but merely called his name and waved a hand, as if she knew exactly where he stood.

He stepped forward, calmly and with measured strides, until he was standing beside the throne. He moved to face it, and her, and bowed deeply before straightening again. “Your Highness?”

“I was under the impression that injured Protectors were not put on patrol,” she said archly, looking at him carefully. She’d given him an out, a place to make his excuses, a place to deny her thoughts. But it was also a test. A test to see if he would work his way out of trouble, if he would lie, if he would deny her just to save his own hide.

“That is so, your Highness,” he responded, and noticed her look of quiet surprise when he said no more. Expected him to take the out, then.

“And yet?” A gentle prod.

“We chose our own patrols this day. I volunteered.”

“Even though you were on last night’s patrol.”

“Yes, your Highness.” She regarded him carefully, calmly, her eyes betraying nothing save cool calculation.  

“You are aware, I’m sure, that it is the Empress’ duty to name a new Royal Protector,” she said, then, changing the topic smoothly.

“Yes, your Highness. The Royal Protector customarily leaves a successor in mind should he die in service, but it is the Empress’ choice to agree or name a different Royal Protector.” This was known just as well as every nook and cranny of the castle to him.

“Our previous Royal Protector named one Victor to succeed him,” she began, and Corvo was already nodding in agreement – Victor was capable, efficient, and intelligent – but she continued. “However, given the events of last night, I am inclined to think differently.” He straightened, putting the dots together, yet remaining silent. She stood, and though she was of equal height with him – perhaps even a little shorter – she stood above him, in ranking, in composure, in power. It was clear who ruled and who served from the darkness. “Corvo Attano, I would appoint you to the office of Royal Protector.” And even though he had guessed, the words still hit him like an unforeseen blow, surprising him. “Do you accept?”

“I do, your Highness,” he replied, and went down on one knee, taking her hand and placing a light, gentle kiss on the back of it. “And I thank you for the honor.”

Jessamine smiled then, and it was a gesture full of warmth and kindness. A real smile, not the demure thing she used among the aristocracy. She withheld the words he could guess, knowing that he was not fishing for compliments. Knowing that he was not seeking an admission to saving her - and her daughter’s – life, and so keeping it silent.

“It will be announced tomorrow to the city, but you may take on your duties as of now, Lord Protector.”  Her hand moved just slightly upwards, an inclination to get him to stand, and he did. He nodded once, an acceptance of his orders, a bow in that it acknowledged her standing and also knew the inefficiency of bowing twice. He stepped back and melted into the shadows, looking to the remaining Protectors, noting their careful looks upon him. They’d heard, then. They would spread the news, as well. He could count on them for that.

—-

Lunch time came around, and Emily was brought in from her lessons . Corvo felt at ease when he could watch over both Jessamine and Emily together. He didn’t fear for their lives whenever both were together. Didn’t worry about the Protectors watching over them and themselves. Especially after the night before.

Emily sat calmly at the table, a reflection of Jessamine’s calm, and Corvo would have doubted the events of the previous night if he had not been there himself. He watched them for a moment, two, gave himself that much before turning and studying the Protectors that had entered with the young Lady Emily. He met one’s gaze – Richard – and made a subtle hand-gesture, a quiet call to him. He walked over briskly, with purpose and yet in a patrol pattern, belonging to the shadows. Bringing no attention to himself or his goal.

“Lord Protector,” he nodded once, a symbolic bow if not a real one.

“That fast, hm?” Corvo asked, a wry smile appearing at the corner of his lips.

“Of course, Sir. We would not be the best, otherwise,” Richard replied dutifully, and Corvo nodded, acquiescing.

“The Lady Emily, how is she?” he asked, quietly, moving to the point in an instant. If Richard was surprised, he hid it well.

“Fine, Sir. She slept well and seems undisturbed by the…events of last night. If anything, she is enthralled by it. She brought up a desire to learn swordfighting. There are already tutors in that art clamoring for the honor to teach her.” Richard was amused too, though he hid it well. Leave it to their Empress to ignore the fact that she had almost been killed and take away only that she wanted to learn to fight just as well.

“If it is her desire, and her Majesty does not disapprove, then it will be so. No signs of unease?” Corvo was intrigued, surprised. A six-year-old girl that wasn’t afraid of assassins? That took a type of mettle that wasn’t often found in the world anymore. The kind of mettle that built Protectors, assassins, fighters of the highest caliber. And Empresses.

“No, Sir. She did express a desire to see you, but she was informed that you were currently with her Majesty, and were unavailable. She is awaiting the first chance you are free in which she may speak to you.”

“Thank you. You may return to your post.” Corvo watched him nod once more and return, completing his circuit around the room, to stand a ways behind Emily’s chair. Corvo himself was placed behind the Empress’ right hand, in the shadows and at such a vantage that it would be impossible for anyone to sneak up upon either of them.

The meal passed quickly, if uneventfully, and the guards rotated, those who were patrolling given a break to eat, those who were off-duty being put to work. Corvo skipped his meal and went straight to check on Emily and her Protectors. He dismissed both of them, telling them to relax a short while longer, and to return in an hour or so. They both gave him short bows and left.  Apparently the news of his promotion had already permeated through the whole Tower. An important secret that everyone knew.

“Lady Emily, I was informed that you had requested my presence?” A quiet, gentle question. A space for her to deny it and send him away in a fit of anger still held from days before.

But she didn’t. She turned to face him, and a wide grin broke onto her features, spreading across her face, making her light up. Her eyes shone, and she flung herself forward at him with a cry of, “Corvo!” He caught her easily, deftly, swinging her around before putting her down.

“I didn’t…I mean, I wanted to…” she paused, trying to gather the words she wished to speak, to find them and articulate them eloquently, as befitted a princess. “I wish to apologize to you for my rash anger, and express my gratitude…” Emily stumbled over the words a little – it was to be expected, she was only a child – and waved at the air in irritation, as if it were the cause of her struggle. “Thank you, Corvo. For saving me. And Mother too, I hear.”

“Of course, your Ladyship,” Corvo replied quickly, bowing low and then crouching so he was at eye-level with her. “You need not apologize for a thing. I was in the wrong there.” He was expecting her to understand the nuance, that he forgave her and that she also didn’t need to apologize, yet in doing so, she was seen as commendable and noble. He was expecting much of her.

She delivered, though, and nodded. “Good. I want you to be…un-removed from your ban on my patrols.” Emily looked out the window, at the cerulean sky, and smiled slowly, mischievously. “C’mon, Corvo. Let’s go outside!”

Corvo laughed. “Very well, your Ladyship,” he responded, and followed her run out of the castle and into the fresh air.

—-


End file.
